Just a little trouble in the Big Ugly

No doubt about it, we are living in troubled times. With the economy on the skids, and great uncertainty in the looming Presidential election, it seems people are just a little bit more on edge than usual. Tough times bring out the worst in people, and also the best. I have a sense that people are banding together to fend off the wolf at the door and the feeling of community is stronger than ever. At the same time, the disconsolate are angry and their emotions sometimes get the better of them. And then again, maybe things are just they way they are and some folks are just folks and others are just kids-- looking to cause trouble.

It was a very tough week riding to work last week, traveling through the heart of the hood on my bike route from Oak Park to UIC. Unusually warm for late September and I was hard pressed to make a deadline so I was working later than usual and riding through The Big Ugly when lots of people were out on the streets. The term Big Ugly was coined by "Da Editor" and I took exception to my bike route being referred to this way. I contended that you can find beauty everywhere, even if its the glinting of the sun's first rays on the broken glass that litters the way. I blogged about this last year: http://virtualbuck.blogspot.com/2007/06/beauty-in-big-ugly.html, and have continued to see more of the beauty than the ugly in the Big Ugly. Its not the physical world where the beauty lies (at least not on this bike route), but its the beauty we experiece in the people we meet along the way. The sentinels of the west side are so familiar to us that we have formed bonds with them. The newspaper sellers who greet us early in the morning--the meliflulous voiced guy on Kostner and Harrison who yells "icecream!!!!" giving us high fives as we ride by. Just west of Kostner, in the crook of the big bend, the very heart of K-town, ground zero, we see Lucky, who sits on his bucket on the corner of Kilbourne and Harrison, clicking his imaginary stop watch as we ride by, and saying "yes sir, yessir...".

Just opposite Lucky's corner is the Holy Temple of the Community of God Worship Center, a white clapboard storefront church and community food pantry, Reverand L Carter's ministry. This summer in front of Reverand Carter's church, a very friendly and outgoing gent has been selling water, two bottles for a dollar. I've started stopping, giving him a dollar and he'll slide the water into my paniers for me after he makes sure I get some cold ones. On one of these recent, very warm afternoons, I stopped and bought some water, and chatted for a few minutes. He asked if I did triathalons and suggested I must be in pretty good shape riding all the time. I told him, jokingly, that just riding through this neighborhood got my heart rate up. He laughed, and his companion who was sitting at the table on the sidewalk laughed uproariously. Then he said "you don't know the half of it, I don't want to get you alarmed, but you know that viaduct right there? There was two murders in the last two weeks right there. And you should hear it around here at night." He held his finger in the shape of a gun pointing into the air and said, "bang, bang, bang...." I told him that I really appreciated that he was looking out for us when we rode by. To which he replide "Oh no, its not me who's looking out for you, " then, in a perfect preacher's voice pointing to the sky, he sang out "its the Lord above who is looking out for you". I bid him adieu and rode on home, struck by the thought that while I ride through there everyday, he lives there 24/7-- ground zero. The folks who live there hate gun violence and gangs even more than we do-- it affects their daily lives all the time. I really enjoyed my interaction with the good Reverand, and believed this gent to be the Reverand Carter himself.

Then came the trouble. It was a Wednesday evening, approaching 5:30. I was sitting at the corner of Kedzie and Congress waiting for my riding partner, Paul who'd had to change his plans at the last minute and had called, but I didn't hear my phone ring. So I just sat on my bike, waiting. A group of 4 or 5 teenagers ambled on by. One of the kids was dressed like a gangsta, and was carrying a 3 foot long crowbar, smacking his palm, play- fighting with his friends, pretending to hit them. Innocent fun, it seemed, but I avoid looking at them too closely so as to not attract their attention, though they did make me a bit nervous. They wandered away, and I dutifully sat waiting. When the group with the crowbar wielding gagnst wannabe turned and headed back towards me, I decided it was time to go and rode on west, hoping Paul was OK.

I dismissed the incident and contined on my merry way. I sometimes feel like a jolly yahoo, waving to all the folks who sit on the porches and watch me ride by day after day. They are always there and we recognize each other-- I'm the white guy riding his bike waving at them-- no doubt not what they usually see from their porch perch. Reveling in a way, and feeling rather insular, protected in my cacoon of good intention and warm feelings for my fellow beings, I had become unwary. Riding along after picking up some water from the good Reverand, west of Cicero and cruising, I saw three youths standing on the corner, of LaVergne and Harrison in front of the school. As I gathered speed, riding through the stop sign I saw the tallest of the three step out into the street and face me down. He could have been stepping out to look for his bus, or perhaps he was going to give me high fives as folks along the way often do. I stayed the course and bore down directly towards him, not even thinking about evading him, and as I got near him he took a swing at me and slapped me hard on the arm with his open palm. It stung like hell and shocked me. I thought about stopping and going back to tell him my opinion of his affrontery, but instead, picked up the pace and rode away from his as quickly as possible, never looking back. Suddenly I was made AWARE again. My unwariness was vanquished and the hostile envinroment surrounding me frightened me. I was both angry and had my feelings hurt-- how dare he do that to me? Doesn't he know I'm just like him? Becuase I reach out to his homies I deserve to be treated with respect.... no, I am just an easy mark. Some white dude riding alone in his neighborhood, daring to stay the course and challenge him instead of swerving out of the way into passing traffic to avoid his "greeting." Had he been alone he wouldn't have had friends to show off for. If I'd been riding two up, he'd likely not have done it either. It really gave me second thoughts about how safe I've come to believe I am riding through the wilds of west Chicago.

The next day, riding home, alone again, I stopped to visit the Reverand and buy some water. We had a nice chat and I told him about this incident. He gave me some advice--"this is what you do, " he said "you stop here, get some water, rest up for a few minutes, then get on your bike and ride like hell just as fast as you can past there!" Ah, some great advice. I learned also, in this conversation, that his name is Howard, his companion is Rosie, he is the Reverand Carter's nephew and caretaker of the church. And that our long time bucket sitting friend who lives on the corner is named Lucky. And he said that Lucky may not "be there" but he sure isn't stupid. I continue on my way, reminded to be aware, but not to fear. These are just folks and I can tell they appreciate that I am open and friendly. And I can also tell that gangs of teenagers do not appreciate my karma quest but see me as yet another target for their angst and an easy distraction from their boredom.

Number Twenty

This last weekend was our 20th Labor Day in Oak Park. And it will be our last. We moved into our house on Wisconsin Ave on August 26, 1989, just days before I started work at UIC. Of course, around here, 20 years of service as a faculty member, is not recognized-- I guess its typical of how faculty are generally treated at UIC. But that is another diatribe. It was a long and eventful Labor Day holiday, starting off in style with the Rat Dog and Allman Brothers concert at Northerly Island on Chicago's lakefront-- a very nice concert venue on the site of old Meig's Field where Da Mayor famously bulldozed in the middle of the night. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meigs_Field.

It was a perfect night and both bands delivered. I felt at home with my contemporaries and happy to celebrate the music with so many young folk too. Seeing several rasta skate girls in dreads and all their natural glory added to festive feeling of the show. The Allman brothers reprised Jessica with Waren Haynes and Duane Trucks playing the dual guitar lead, so reminiscent of Duane Allman and Dicky Betts-- an electric lyric quality to the guitar line. A real crowd favorite. And crowded it was. While its fun and exciting to have the communal music experience, it is also challenging to be among so many revelers.

I took Friday off to work at home, and had a very productive day mitering trim and fitting moldings to match the original circa 1913 trim that needed replacing. One good thing about getting the house ready to sell is I am now forced to finish all the projects left undone for so many years. The end result of this carpentry task was immensely satisfying. It is gratifying to see work in equal finished project out. Quite a contrast to my work-a-day world. I labored away in the house all day until 4 PM when I picked up Ryder at school-- and then it was off to the pool; the last weekend for the pool for the year and it was hot enough to really enjoy it. And it was crowded too! We went to the pool Friday, Saturday and Sunday, and though it was open on Monday, we managed not to go that day too. And so, the pool closes for the season, our last summer in Oak Park. To cap it off, we visited the carnival at the Cermack Plaza in Berwyn, the site of the famous Berwyn Spike, immortalized in Wayne's World. Alas, the spike is now gone and they are building a new Walgreens in its place. Talk about classing up the joint. We rode our bikes to the carnival and arrived in the late afternoon when it was none to crowded and very hot, sunny and exposed. We rode the Pharoah's Slipper, the Tilt-a-Whirl and the Ferris Wheel. From the top of the wheel there was a great view of the Chicago skyline, and to the the south, you could imagine seeing the first Ferris wheel at the Colombian Exposition of 1893. I felt nostalgic for the view and just a bit of melancholy knowing how much different my horizon will be next Labor Day. It was the hottest Labor Day weekend since we've been in Chicago, not a cloud in the sky all weekend long.

The political theater taking place in the presidential campaign offered some amusement, the unexpected announcement that Sarah Barracuda would be McCain's running mate and then all the RNC attendees who took of their Republican hats and put on their American hats to help the poor people of New Orleans who were about to be washed away by Gustav. So much compassion! This time they were going to be there and also avoid having Bush and Cheney speak at their convention. They are having their convention in the Twin Cities for a reason, to celebrate the twins-- McCain and Bush. And the chicanery-- the thoroughly vetted, or so they say, Sarah Pilan as Veep-- like my friend said, if they get elected, they can park her trailer right there on the White House lawn.

Summer time come and gone my oh my....

It was Labor Day weekend 1977, Red Rocks Amphitheater, Morrison, Colorado, the third night of a three day Grateful Dead concert experience. The days were bright and sunny, as clear and blue as only the skies of Colorado can be, and the Dead were rockin'! We had been treated to an incredible range of favorites and new songs as well, this being the in the era of Mars Hotel, Blues for Allah and the newly released Terrapin Station, some of the Dead's finest efforts. At the close of the first set, a rollicksome US Blues was greeted by a swirling wind. As Donna G0dchaux stood at the microphone, wailing the lyrics "summer time, come and gone, my oh my..." the chilly wind whipped her long hair across her face, and fall was in the air.

This vision came to mind yesterday as we walked Ryder to his first day of school-- 2nd grade at Lincoln School. I was beset with a melancholy, the realization that the summer is over, the school year has begun. As I rode my bike to work early this morning, into the rising sun, my bare arms were chilled in the cool morning air. A brilliant day found us wheeling through the west side, not a cloud in the sky, the big orange sun rising in the east and exceptionally low humidity. Summer time, come and gone, my oh my.

This song, the US Blues is so very appropriate this week as we watch the Democratic Convention in Denver, city of my birth. The media seem surprised to discover what a lovely, vibrant and clean city Denver is. The shots of the 16th street mall with that brilliant blue sky make me so homesick. Uncle Sam has been hiding out in a rock and roll band. And now he is coming out of hiding! Truly stunning speeches by Michelle Obama on Tuesday night and last night Hillary Clinton gave the best and most important speech of her life! Democrats unite! No more Bush, No McCain! hope not fear, health care for every one, government for the people, not the select few! She beat the Democrat Drum brilliantly and I am so encouraged, so excited, and yes, so hopeful, that we can all come together and end the tyranny of bigoted old white men running this country into the ground for too many years! Look at the audience Hillary and Michelle are igniting with passion and excitement-- a broad cross section of Americans. Look who McCain is appealing too-- old white men! No country for old white men, no more. Now its time that fair representation for all of America, not just the privileged few. The Grand Oil Party's days are numbered. If only we can make it to January with out Bush and Cheney starting another war, with Iran-- or Russia? How dare Bush chastise Putin for attacking a sovereign country. Five long years ago Bush did what no American president has ever done-- invaded a sovereign country and waged war under false pretenses-- a conspiracy built on lies and deception to serve big oil and corporate enterprise. Enough! Democrats unite and lets get these fiends out of office!

Row Jimmy, Row

Last week when we were down south, Ryder and I went canoing on Little Grassy Lake for about 2 hours and I found it to be a great upper body workout. I perfected my J stroke and could paddle vigorously, pulling at a good clip, and more or less keep the canoe straight. It was a lot of fun and I really liked the sore muscles I experienced, evidence of a bit of exercise. This week as perused my email, I found a message from the Livestrong.com touting the virtues of rowing. I didn't know I was subscribed to email bulletins from this site, but I was subscribed to the Daily Plate and it seems as though Livestrong consumed them. It is actually quite a nice site with lots of different type of exercise, health, fitness and diet related content. The bit on rowing caught my eye and I recalled how I would row a few years back after I suffered an injury and couldn't run. I really liked it but when I returned to my feet, I abandoned rowing. Well, now that I have to meter out running carefully due to my knees, I was receptive to rowing again, and gave it a try. The Concept 2 machines are positioned so that they look out over the courtyard adjacent to the student union, so its better than television, watching the student body walk by. Especially now that all the students are starting to return for the fall semester and are fit, tanned and aren't wearing winter coats. So I jumped on and rowed 2000 meters in about 14 minutes. It felt great, so I did another 1000 meters and really started to feel it. The next two days I felt tight and trim-- good core, lower back, upper body and leg work.

Today I warmed up and then did 5000 meters, which was just a bit of a challenge. At about 2500 meters my butt started to burn, the gluteus and piriformis. The compression of my knees on the "catch" concerned me and bothered me a bit, but I didn't feel any real pain, just an awareness. I had a whole body experience as I felt my trapezius, lats, pectoralis, deltoids, biceps, triceps, abs, quads and calves, all involved. I breathed into each pull and kept my heart rate up. I really humped to break 30 minutes for the 5000, and when I got off I felt like I had a very good workout. I did a 1/2 mile on the treadmill to stretch out my hamstrings and feel if my knees were ok, which they were. After my matt work I felt really good and quite well exercised. I plan on including a few rowing sessions into my regimen now. I have been dropping weight with 4 workouts a week and watching the carbs. One of these days I will step on the scale at the gym and the beam won't tilt with the 200 lb notch engaged. I haven't been below 200 since I was in my 20s and then before that in my teens. I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.

Little Grassy Lake (SIU part 2)

We left Oak Park at 2 in the afternoon, Friday afternoon, and it took us an hour to make it to I57. I57 connects the north with the south. Not just northern and southern Illinois, but the geographic north/south of the continental United States and the cultural north and south. This great American road, connecting Chicago to Memphis and points south provides smooth sailing with little traffic. I usually drive 137 miles south to the Champagne-Urbana exit to go to the chicken lab. This trip, our second drive to Carbondale, we sailed on by the birds on towards Arcola, Effingham, Mt Vernon, all the way to Marion, and into the Crab Orchard National Wildlife Refuge to Little Grassy Lake, adjacent to Giant City State park, just on the outskirts of Carbondale. We arrived at campground after the marina had closed so we picked a prime tenter's spot on the tip of a finger of land, jutting into the lake. We were alone in this section of the campground, well removed from the legion of camping trailers and RVs arrayed in bunches along the road to the marina. Long term campers were well entrenched and decorated with Christmas lights, bird feeders, boat trailers, grills, coolers, bug tents, TVs/radios, A/C blaring in the trailers, little gray wheelies connected to the toilet-- every trailer had the same model poop cart. We felt like Spartans just car camping, exiled to the tenter's cove. Kentucky was in the air. Heat, humidity and that drawl. No one was moving very fast-- except in their jon boats on the water. Life is on a different scale at Little Grassy Lake campground.

After we pitched our camp, we cooked a simple dinner of turkey cheese burgers and baked beans. Cooper settled right in but Mirabel would never rest. She chased dragonflies for hours, pointing at them then snapping at them, occasionally inhaling one. Then she discovered that the lake was filled with life, and she spent hours standing in the deep grass in the shallow water, pointing and snapping. Cooper sat like a lion surveying his domain with a pleased countenance. As the darkness gathered around us the sky grew light with stars. Even in the intense humidity the stars shone brightly, not obscured by city lights-- one could forget that there are more than a few dozen stars if you only see the sky in Chicago. The ambient sound intensified in the darkness. Croaking, clacking, cricketing, splashing and rustling-- no sirens, screaming Yamahas, rumbling Els-- or east coast bound 737 shattering the din. Dark and quiet-- what a relief. We could have used a bit of a breeze though-- it was suffer some in the heat. As we lay in the tent on top of our sleeping bags, I could feel my heart racing with the effort of pumping blood to my periphery to cool me off. I could not take my rest, my mind was roaming like a wild beast in the west.... I was profoundly taken with the realization that this was the world we would soon be living in, back to nature. In my more rational mind I knew that on most early August nights in Carbondale will find me comfortable under air, and not camping at Little Grassy-- but just outside my door, just a few miles from Little Grassy, my new back yard will stretch out into the dark and silent. A wonderfully comforting thought that scared the hell out of me. Oh my gawd! what in the world are we doing, moving to the south. We are going to have to learn how to saunter for sure. Adapt to the new sensibility, talk slow and be very polite. I57 carried us to the deep south of Illinois, 30 miles from the Ohio river to the south and 30 miles to the Mississippi to the west. Quiet and dark, heart racing, 5 of us in our spacious tent, even the gentle sounds of two dogs and two other people sleeping couldn't lull me to slumber. All I could think about was that I would soon be living here-- next summer would find us living in Carbondale-- but where we do not know.

We enjoyed exploring Carbondale on our own this time. Nothing scheduled until Monday's house hunting. We visited the farmer's market and were delighted with the locally grown veggies and fruit-- blueberries, peaches, melons, tomatoes, squash, onions-- we provisioned ourselves for camping, and enjoyed the ambiance of what will become our new weekly farmer's market pilgrimage. It was mighty hot, that's for sure. We shared the shade with two women who had moved to Carbondale from San Antonio last year-- they agreed it was hot but liked that it cooled off at night here. yeah, right I thought. We are so accustomed to camping at altitude when it does cool off at night. But I suppose, compared to San Antonio, this was mild. The best thing to do in the heat is to get in the water. So we drove west through Murphysboro to "the spillway" at the southern tip of Lake Kinkaid. It took a bit of navigating and some visitors had turned back when they discovered the pond at the foot of the spillway was flooded. This didn't slow us up. Ryder, Mirabel and I jumped in and swam across the pond, then clamored up the rocks to the cascading water. A family with three young children were enjoying the water, sitting with the water crashing over them. Ryder and I joined them in the warm shower, such a delight. We climbed all over the rocks, then swam back to Cooper and Cookie. I swam with Cooper who was reluctant at first to swim, but with some maneuvering joined the fun. What a relief to get into the water. We will be spending a lot of time being wet once we move to C'dale.

On the way back to Little Grassy Lake we visited Makanda for an ice cream cone. It was nearly 5 PM and the locals had gathered on the porch to share some joy, and were a very welcoming crew. We visited with the old hippies for a while, and I felt right at home, though not quite as grizzled as some of these gents. A very different air to this place than at Little Grassy, though the atmospherics were much the same. I have a feeling that I am really going to like living among these folks who are organic, artistic, erudite and real easy going. Ryder scored a beautiful tie-dye a the Smelly Hippie-- a candle and tie-dye shop with a bigger name than inventory.

The days remained hot but the humidity lessened and indeed, it did cool off nicely at night. And the less humid it got, the brighter the stars shone. As the dusk gathered we went fishing and as soon as we cast our lines, we caught fish. Ryder was so excited with the two small crappies he caught, he really wanted to clean and eat them. I felt guilty about keeping 5 inchers, but he would have been so disappointed had I thrown them back, so we took them back to camp. He proudly showed them to his mom. I cleaned them and we threw them into a skillet with some butter. And bless his little heart, Ryder ate both fish, working his way around the bones, fins and skin. He agreed that next time we would throw the little ones back, and wait until we caught a bigger fish to eat. The whole time I was bleeding inside, lamenting the bad Karma of killing something to eat it-- and I know that the Buddha would not kill the fish. But he would eat it if I caught it and gave it to him. A thin line to cross-- or is it? I even hate threading the squirming worm onto the hook perhaps even as much as gutting the wiggling fish. None the less, I am planning on going fishing again.

Monday we spent the whole day looking at houses with Marcia. By the 6th hour it was 96 degrees and we were exhausted. Karen and Ryder drove with Marcia and I drove the Subaru with the dogs, who endured the long hot day mostly from inside the car. Our first stop was a 1908 brick plantation with 45 acres just a few miles from town. the house was awful, simply dreadfully kept up and decorated. It was dank and dark, with 1950's era everything. Less that 400K for this monstrosity on all that land. We could parcel the property off, tear down and rebuild a nice modern house.... ugh. Then we visited the "Victorian legend" again, a property we'd seen in May and really liked. 1895 Victorian completely restored with new wiring and plumbing, a modern kitchen-- it is a real beauty. And on 40 acres with a working barn and pond. The more we thought about this place, the more I was sure this was the one we wanted. We looked at our options for trying to secure this place now for future purchase-- we have to sell our Oak Park house before we can buy one in Carbondale. But what if this IS the one? Well, we had to be sure. It is indeed spectacular. But it only has two bathrooms and three bedrooms. A nice formal parlor and dinning room, much bigger than our current place. It is a bit of a drive from SIU, about 8 miles, and the nearest neighbor is 1/4 a mile a way. Quite a change from Oak Park.

We took a much more extensive look this time, exploring the basement, the out buildings and we all walked down to the pond. Ryder was so excited to see the doc and pond. We could see dozens of fish in the water-- Mirabel saw them too and jumped into get them! Ryder hung on to her leash, but didn't follow her in. Cooper and Karen ambled to the pond, pausing to flick the tics off the dog. Yup, tic country. And chiggers too we've now discovered.... OK, so maybe the Victorian Legend is not ideal, but wow, what an amazing place. So much land and such a beautiful house. Not unlike the devil we know, our 1913 mini-Victorian in Oak Park. Renovated or not, this house would be a perpetual project-- and 40 acres?

We then visited houses in the Unity Point district, reported to be the best school district in the area. The house we visited on May Apple lane was like a cabin, rather small, decorated with vast numbers of hunting trophies and chicken wall paper and kitsch. The wife was a quilter and the husband was a hunter. Oddly similar to a house we'd seen in May in Cobden, deep in the woods, filled with trophies and camoflogue clothing, only at this place the wife was a scrap booker. The thing we like best about the May Apple place was the kennel with German Shorthaired Pointers in the back and the awesome fishing pole rack in the garage. It was rather small, dark and the lot was entirely wooded.

Next we saw "the house". Still under construction, on Lake Lenore, a beautiful, modern house on 5 acres, with a lake a few hundred feet from the walk out basement. We were very attracted to the idea of living in a newly constructed, fully modern house-- 4 full baths, 4 bedrooms, granite and Corian counters, slate tile, beautiful hardwood floors-- every detail well executed and conceived. We met the developer/contractor who was working on the master bath when we arrived. Wow, this place just blew us away. The lot seemed too small as a good portion of it contained a part of the lake, and we had to travel a newly built and rather primative gravl road to access the place. But it was only 4 miles from SIU, and did I mention-- brand new? It was a lot of fun looking at this place and we have moved it to the top of our list-- in a tie with the Victorian Legend. We hope that these places will be availalbe when we have earnest money in hand. The way the housing market is moving now, this is a real possibility. If only we can sell our current home when its time. By the time we saw the next two properties we were pretty burned out from house hunting, over heated and hungry. The two we liked the most made the others pale by comparison. We do anticipate that there are other very attractive properties to consider, and know that each place will have its pluses and minuses.

We enjoyed one more night at Little Grassy Lake then rolled up the camp and drove on home to Oak Park. Not a bad drive at all-- until you get to the outskirts of Chicago when the traffic snarls and the tempers flare. What a different world it is in southern Illinois. We can hardly wait to move there. We spent the rest of the week-- my summer vacation, painting the stairwell and entry way. Gorgeous. Our house is looking really good! The irony of making it so beautiful for someone else. Looking at houses instucts us in how to prepare ours for sale. I must take all my hunting trophies down and put them away. Yeah, right.

We finished the week with our annual gala block party. We love our neighborhood and are so fond of all our neighbors. This will be what we miss the most when we move. Not the traffic, the light and sound pollution, the cost of living, the crime etc, but all of our dear friends and neighbors. Such is the price of moving.

White Sox Win!

It couldn't have been a nicer day for a game-- sunny and warm but not too hot. The whole lab went to the Cell to see the White Sox play the Texas Rangers, taking the afternoon off to enjoy the splendor of MLB on a mid-summer's day. Kristine organized the outing, bought the tickets and made all the arrangements for the 12 of us. We massed in the lab at 11:30 and took the El en masse to 35th and the Dan Ryan, to the home of the Chicago White Sox. Ryder had two pals along, Sam and Tiger so we had great hope that the fireworks would not perturb him. We found our seats on the 5th level-- nose bleed seats, down the 1st base line near the foul pole- great seats with a perfect view of all the action. Truly, there isn't a bad seat in the house. Our first test came just after the singing of the national anthem when the sky exploded with sky rockets-- and Ryder stood cheering and clapping his hands wildly over his head! It almost brought tears to my eyes seeing his enjoyment, instead of seeing him with his hands pressed over his ears and that look of abject terror. His near pathological fear of loud noises, especially fireworks has plagued him-- and us. You never know when you might encounter fireworks, at most major league sporting events is one place for sure. And there were plenty of fireworks at the game. Especially in the 8th inning when the Sox came from behind to score six runs. It was Carlos Quentin's 3 run homer that set off the fireworks. Thome had a solo homer in the first inning too, and during all of these displays Ryder soldiered through, barely affected by the booming explosions which were very near our end of the stadium. A huge breakthrough. And for the girls in the lab too-- die hard Cubs fans, they all seemed to enjoy going to the south side and seeing the Chi-Sox kick some Texas booty. The big gun, Josh Hamilton struck out 4 times and popped up to end the game. It is always a pleasure to see a team from Texas get their butts kicked, especially one formerly owned by the worst president in the history of world, one whose days are numbered-- thank goodness! I do not believe he will return to his failed career as an owner after his failure as president. In fact, other than getting elected, he's failed at every thing. Notice the price of gas recently?

and the road goes on forever...

A glorious mid-summer day with perfect sunshine, low humidity and not a cloud in the sky. The wind is blowing off the lake bringing the temperature down to the mid-seventies in the afternoon, still quite brisk this morning. I had a great ride in. I was about two minutes behind my riding buddy so I chained up to the big sprocket on front and cranked. By the time I caught her 2 miles later I had been cruising along at over 20 mph and huffing. It was good to catch my breath when we joined up. The rest of the ride was very pleasant, always nice to have company, especially if you can still cruise along at a decent pace. The group dynamic suffers from slow riders pulling back the pack, but we are tuned into a very nice 16-18 mph pace, getting me to work before the electronic lock opens the door. Just as I clicked out of my peddle the door clicked open, 27 minutes from Austin to the College of Medicine West. My homies let me know how close I was getting to my partner. At Laramie, the newspaper man told me that the lady said I would be trying to catch her, sure enough, he was right. At Kostner the euphonious one chimed out "ice-screammmmm" then let me know "lady ice-cream" was just ahead. As I rounded the corner back on to Harrison south of the Ike, there she was, 2 blocks ahead. It was a good sprint to catch up before the light at Pulaski changed.

As I ride through the hood on my way to and from work, I alway see the same folks, always in the same place, doing the same thing-- year after year. We all seem to disappear in the winter, but during the warmer months, there they are. The constant welder, the guy with the world's best work ethic at Latham industries, always at work always giving us the fist up salute as we cruise past. And the folks sitting on their front stoop in the evening as I ride home. I was struck by the realization that those 6 or 8 people, ranging in age from small children playing in the postage stamp front yard, to the old woman sitting on steps-- possibly 5 generations of the same family, all must live in that brownstone two story home. What struck me was knowing that this is what they have to look forward to. Nice and cool on the porch, watching the world go by. Day after day, year after year, this is their neighborhood, their world, their reality-- their future. No plans for leaving, just dreams of it. As their path stretches out forever before them, I rejoice in the certain knowledge that my path is about to change. Not the path of my life or my beliefs, this is THE PATH, the way, but my surroundings, my environment, my reality. My new bike ride to work will be on country roads up and down the hills of southern Illinois. Evenings spent on the wrap around porch looking out on the the fields and ponds and forests of my own property. Taking dog walks on my own land. Our neighbors not feet from our door, but hundreds of yards away. We'll hear birds singing, not the neighbor singing in the shower in the morning. The sirens screaming by will be the mythical creatures of Odysseus, not the cops on Harlem running down speeders. As I look to the future, I can only use my imagination to see what my surroundings offer, instead of knowing that just past Cicero heading west on Harrison there is a pot hole just past the bus shelter that I have to go around every day.